


Interlude: Hot and Cold

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: (mildly), Blow Jobs in a Car, Chafing, Cockblocking, Established Relationship, Hot Weather, Lucien's wandering hands~~, M/M, Medical Kink, Nipples, Sweat, Teasing, Temperature Play, Uncomfortable Charlie, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but bear with me, but then a passing motorist ruins the mood, this is veering into 'porn logic' in terms of realism, we almost have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 01:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10264301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: Hot weather and a police uniform make Charlie uncomfortably warm, chafed, and sore. The good doctor does his best to distract him until he can go home and get cool.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (TBH I have no idea what marks the difference between Mature and Explicit fics. Is it the presence of dicks? Do they have to be hard? Soft? In? Out? Is it when there's sex? No sex? Idek.)
> 
> Anyway, this is set in the same series as my other Lucien/Charlie fics in that they're together and it's sometime while Munro is there, but this is tangentially related and not as focused on their intimacy or emotional state. This is entirely the result of me being in a mood lately where I am weirdly attracted to overly warm, chafed, physically uncomfortable, sunburn-able, pasty white boys who are overdressed and flushed and miserable, and to the mental image of Charlie cringing as sweat builds up and trickles its merry way along his ballsack. Or just sweat in general. That's where this started but it went in another direction. I don't even know what this is, but I wrote the damn thing and didn't know what else to do with it, so I'm putting it here. If you're into temperature kink, this might appeal? I don't know. :I

* * *

On hot days, Charlie is especially envious of Lucien. The doctor can dress in something light and airy, breezing into the police station looking cool and comfortable while Charlie swelters in his uniform. It’s worse outside, when the sun beats down on the dark fabric and cooks him. Charlie always feels… off in the heat – there’s no other way to put it. He is constantly conscious of a thousand discomforts – his undershirt chafing his sweating chest to the point of pain, his briefs riding up the cleft of his arse, the warmth and moisture beading between his legs and under his arms as he struggles through the warmest days. There’s no hope of release at work. Bill sneers at him when he fans himself with a stray bit of paper, and mopping at his brow with a handkerchief does little to soothe him when the rest of him’s soaking wet. The only pleasure he can take is when, in a quiet moment, he can make his excuses and hide in the mens’ room, loosening his tie and washing his face with cold water in the sink. It helps. Barely.

In the heat, tempers are short. Lawson and Munro are treading ‘round each other like dogs about to fight, and Charlie wants to be anywhere but at his desk. When an opportunity to do some investigating out-of-doors comes up, he jumps at the chance.

When he steps outside, Blake’s waiting, leaned up against the police car, hat brim casting a shadow across his face, medical bag in hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping I might tag along. I have a patient to visit on a farm near the crime scene and I’d sooner have company for the drive.”

Even if that’s partially true, Blake almost certainly wants a look at the scene of crime, and that has definitely _not_ been approved by the higher ups, not yet at least. Charlie furrows his brow. They’re all on thin ice with Munro, at this point.

“I dunno…”

“I have perfectly legitimate reasons to – say, you’re red as a beetroot! We’d best get you out of the sun. Do you think you’re safe to drive, or shall we take my car?”

The sudden rush of concern is a bit much for Charlie without the excuse of being at home in private. He winces at a brief twinge of paranoia that rips through him whenever the doctor gets too familiar at work.

“M’fine,” he asserts, and pushes past Blake to get into the driver’s seat. Then, grudgingly: “If you’re coming, then get in.”

It really is too hot to be driving. So thinks the automobile, apparently, because they’re a good half-hour from town when the engine begins making sounds of distress and they’re forced to pull over.

“Damn – I think she’s overheated,” Charlie grimaces. “Now what’ll we do? Road like this, we’ll be lucky if we see another car before nightfall.”

The idea of being stuck in the bush without provisions fills the policeman with considerable unease, and he says so. This amuses Blake, who smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling handsomely so that, much as Charlie means to, he can’t find it in himself to feel annoyed at being teased.

“We’re hardly in the bush, Charlie. But I forget, you’re a city boy, aren’t you?”

Something in the way he says it is as charming as it is infuriating. _Damn him._ Charlie shakes his head.

“So, you’re happy about being stranded out here?”

Lucien’s smile falters.

“Well… that’s a bit of a stretch. You should take off your shirt.”

Charlie nearly chokes.

“Took you all of five seconds to get to _that_.”

“Oh, really – Charlie, it’s hot out. Sweltering. You’ll make yourself ill, wrapped up in all those layers.”

“It’s not appropriate for policemen to go prancing about half-naked!” the young man retorts. “Supposing someone comes along and sees?”

“Supposing someone doesn’t come along, and you have to spend all afternoon boiling?”

The smug bastard has a point. Charlie, however, will not be easily swayed.

“How do I know you don’t just want me out of my shirt so… so you can look at me?”

Lucien raises an eyebrow, face impassive.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Charlie scowls, but the temptation is too great, and he shrugs out of his uniform jacket with a groan. His shirt, beneath, is translucent with perspiration, and he’s all too happy to be rid of it and all.

“Preserving our modesty, are we?”

Charlie’s frown deepens.

“I can’t take off my undershirt – I’ll burn.”

“Not if you stay in the car and out of the sun.”

“Blake –”

“You’ll give yourself a rash, if you haven’t already! Look at your neck, there, in the rearview mirror – your skin is raised! If it makes you feel better, I won’t even face you – I’ll stand outside and watch the road for cars. I only want what’s best for your health.”

Charlie highly doubts that’s all Blake wants, but he tugs the damp undershirt up with a shudder. His nipples throb, rubbed red, raw, and aching. They stand out against the milk-white softness of his chest, dark and angry. At his hiss of pain, Blake breaks his word and glances over, brow furrowing.

“My – that looks painful. May I –?”

Charlie’s voice dies in his throat. Blake’s touch is remarkably gentle as he examines the swollen nubs. There is no lust in Lucien’s eyes – but his doctorly focus is just as breathtaking, Charlie realizes, squirming.

“D’you have anything that could help me, Doc?”

It isn’t supposed to come out so needy and wanting, but it does, and Blake notices, eyebrows raising.

“I’m afraid not,” he says. “Nothing permanent, anyway. Perhaps…”

He trails off, taking another glance at the road.

“I rather think we’d be inviting unnecessary risk,” he mutters to himself. Charlie agrees, rationally, but he’s in pain and miserable. He must look pitiful, because Blake’s eyes soften, and his smile turns wicked, and, in a honeyed voice, he says there might just be something he could do, after all.

Blake, to his credit, can be damned creative when he wants to be. He really doesn’t have anything on hand to do the trick, but his makeshift solution proves, at the very least, distracting. What he finds in his bag is a bit of rubbing alcohol, which he soaks into the corner of a fresh handkerchief, and dabs gently on the worst of the irritation. As it evaporates, it’s cool, cooler than the surrounding air – and colder still when Lucien leans in and blows gently on Charlie’s inflamed skin. The contrast feels like absolute heaven and the young policeman can’t help but melt backwards into his seat with a low groan.

Back and forth Blake goes, cooling with his breath, until Charlie’s shivering, not just from the temperature. His brain supplies the memory of ejaculating in Blake’s throat, and he moans, thighs spreading, his prick starting to tent the front of his uniform trousers. One of his hands moves to grip the doctor’s shoulder; the other clenches tight into a fist.

Lucien is beautiful, bent over in his seat, his lips forming an ‘o’ as they pass breath, cold and teasing, over warm skin. Charlie’s nipples are so hard they hurt, but it’s a good hurt and they throb in time with his cock.

Blake’s eyes flick upwards, all heat and too-much-affection and Charlie whimpers in spite of himself, nudging his hips forwards, hoping to put the older man’s mouth to better use. Blake trails more rubbing alcohol from Charlie’s sternum to the waistband of his trousers, but as he leans in to breathe on the damp skin, he lays his open hand gently over Charlie’s fly, thumbing along the fold of material at irregular, insufficient intervals. It’s not enough, and Charlie curses, giving Blake’s shoulder an irritated shove. Blake laughs, breath coming out in huffs, and it’s not fair, how good he looks, handsome, focused, pulling aw– pulling away? S _hit._ All at once, he sits up straight, his eyes flicking sharply over Charlie’s head, looking off down the road.

“It’s your lucky day.”

“Car?” Charlie asks, panic setting in as he shoves his arms back into his undershirt. Half-naked and fully hard with no means of finishing what Blake started, he doesn’t _feel_ lucky.

“Just coming ‘round the bend. Hurry up and right yourself, Charlie, come on. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”

Charlie fumbles with his buttons, getting dressed in record time and chafing himself raw again in the process. The passerby – a local farmer, gives them a lift back to town, and by the time they get back to the station, Charlie’s whole torso is burning with hot jabs of pain. When the higher ups moan about having to send for someone to tow the car, and having to send someone else to conduct the interview, and when Blake is raked over the coals for being there in the first place, he claims that Charlie’s showing signs of being sick from the heat. He makes such a fuss that they let him take Charlie home just to get Blake to shut up. As the doctor steers the young policeman out the door, he growls low and deep, so that only Charlie can hear:

“When we get home, I’m going to suck the life out of you.”

It’s all Charlie can do to keep his composure as he walks the rest of the way to the car, stiff in every sense of the word.


End file.
